The Paths We Travel
by SaedanWarrior
Summary: Don't really know how to put this story into a summary, rating will most likely go up though and it'll eventually become 2 of the knightsXoc, nonyaoi. Read if interested
1. Shadows

The gale swept harshly through broken stones and shattered charred wooden posts and frames, tattered fabric snapping harshly, the screaming whistle and shrieking maelstrom, giving voice to the lost souls and spreading deaths coppery sent. Smoke billowed across the charred and bloody landscape, across a momentous wall that stood erect and foreboding only slightly blackened from the vicious fight that had stolen the life from the small fort. Another gust sent the cloaks of two riders sailing in graceful arcs of black and white as they stood astride valiant steeds upon a crest in the land, overlooking the damage.

What is the taste of freedom, some may never know, their very life ripped from them before they have set upon their path of destiny. Others, would never know but the first blissful bite before freedom is taken away from them and they live life with a bitter hatred to those who took what was rightfully theirs all the while striving to hold on to the small hope that what was lost, shall be found just around the corner.

The rider in black turned slightly as a roman messenger tried to climb the steep slope, the thick blanket of snow and harsh winds making it difficult on both horse and rider. By the time the herald had made it to the top of the slope the rider in black had turned away, surveying the carnage once again, while the rider in white merely nodded in the messenger's general direction. Reaching in his saddlebag the messenger, probably no more than eighteen years of age, grabbed a scroll and held it out to the riders. The rider in black took the scroll and glanced at it slightly before tossing it to the white rider and turning their dark gray horse and trotting down the hill. The rider in white glanced at the scroll before sighing and tossing the boy a coin for his troubles, turning their black charger they soon followed after the rider in black.


	2. Herald of the Beginning

Elsewhere another Roman messenger was walking into the fort of Arthurius Castus. Upon his arrival in the main hall conversation stopped amongst the Sarmatian knights stationed there, the messenger looked around, slightly taken aback at the round table decorating the middle of the hall and that Commander Arthurius didn't seem to be there as the servant guide had said. He was about to state this when one of the soldiers spoke up.

"Can we help you?" The man was tall; maybe around twenty or so, he had dark brown hair that curled slightly and green eyes that held a light of kindness and knowledge behind them.

"I have a message for Athurius Castus, from Rome," the messenger ground out, stepping back slightly when the man approached a few steps.

"I am he," the man now known as Arthurius said, "Please, sit you must be tired from your journey." As a chair was pointed out to the messenger some of the knights shifted in their seats uncomfortably.

Noticing the disquiet amongst the knights the messenger replied, "No rest for the messenger sir. I can only stay here for a few more hours before I must be off. However, this message is for you and you alone, my orders do not allow me to hand it to you in the presence of others."

"I'm sorry for that my friend, but I have no secrets from my knights," stated Arthurius giving a slightly shrug before continuing at the apprehensive look of the messenger, "I don't care how important that message may be, my only options to you are simple. You can either give the message me now, in the presence of my knights, or not at all."

The messenger looked at the faces of all the knights, the smug grins from some of them annoyed him to no end, but the stares of the others made him shiver slightly in remembrance of another's stare, "Since you leave me no choice, my lord. I can't exactly not give it to you; however, might I ask in return, since it puts my neck to the gallows if word of this gets out, that I have your silence on this matter to anyone outside of this room that isn't one of your knights of Sarmatia?"

Arthurius nodded his consent, "You may have that if you wish. I'll have some of the servants prepare a room for you and fetch you some food while your horse rests. By what time do you have to be off again?"

The messenger looked at Arthurius charily before replying, "At most four hours from now, my lord." With a 'very well' from Arthurius the messenger bowed and left the room, slightly surprised to find a servant already waiting to show him to a room.

Once the door had closed behind the messenger Arthur turned back to the table at which his knights sat a slightly perplexed look on his face. As he sat down one of the more impatient knights spoke up, "Well, what is it, what's got you so worried? It's probably nothing more than some lame mission that takes up weeks of our break time." It was Urien, an uncouth and spiteful knight, one of the younger ones, he had ruddy blonde hair and dark sneering eyes and somehow always managed to grate on the nerves of every single knight, even some of the calmer ones.

"Shut you bloody trap, whelp," shouted Bors, "If you had even a half a brain in that thick skull of yours you'd have noticed that this is the first time Rome has ever tried to give Arthur a mission in secret, normally they don't care who's with Arthur at the time a mission is delivered,"

"That's right Bors, amazing, you yourself are not as dense as I first thought you were," ground out Mordred sneering slightly as Bors was held back from lunging at him by Dagonet. Turning to face Arthur Mordred continued, "So what does it say,"

_ A freedom fought for is a freedom only held loosely by those that took it away. Forced to serve till death or release is a freedom only temporarily withheld. What souls shall never know the taste of freedom again, what souls are forced till their spirits are broken to continue on since their freedom unrequited has left them bound in chains of war, deceit and death? Time turns for no man and freedom lost is rarely regained._

With a sigh Arthur opened the scroll and began to read aloud, Mordred always did seem to hate everybody and everything, "It says-

Arthurius Castus

By order of the Church of Rome and the Legatus Legionis of the Britangne province, you are to receive fort command over two Sarmatian knights.

Though you are in command of these two knights, Rome may have missions for them and them alone which you are not to assist or heed them in finishing. Reports on their behavior are to be sent to the nearest Preafectus Castrorum to you. Convert them to our ways at any cost, bare in mind though that they have been convicted for killing three commanding officers, the attempted assassination of the previous Legatus Legionis of Britangne, the desecration of one of the Temples of God and have been accused as the cause for the disappearance of more than thirty…" At this point Arthur trailed off quietly to shocked to form words aloud as he continued to read to himself seemingly oblivious to the disbelieving words of his other knights, '…roman soldiers. They have already received special punishment for this so there is no need for you to punish them anymore unless you feel the need to. And, as you are the fifteenth commander to have taken charge over them this is their last chance to convert or remain in good behavior, if they do anything out of line to the highest degree they are to be locked up tortured for five years and them sent to Rome for execution.

They have currently been given orders to head your current post, it is requested that you meet them along the way to make sure that they don't try to run off. Leave immediately upon receiving this message and meet them in the village of Carnathy. If they haven't reached there within a day after you then they have disserted and you are to hunt them down and kill them as traitors.'

"ARTHUR!" Jolted from his shocked stupor by Lancelot's yelling in his ear Arthur faced his knights again, "What the hell did the rest of it say to make you go so far into shock that it made you deaf. It was just beginning to get interesting, what with the killing of some higher-ups," Lancelot continued amused and concerned all in one and the other knights seemed to agree, "No offense to you or anything though Arthur."

"The rest of it just goes on about the rest of these nights so called felonies and how I'm supposed to 'punish' them for any further misdemeanors and as their fifteenth commander I'm supposed to meet up with them in Carnathy, which means that we have to leave right now if we're to make it there before these two,"

"Fuck me! Fifteenth commander, not even Mordred had more than eight" exclaimed Kay. A glance at the younger hateful knight showed that he was greatly displeased with this comment. The one thing that Mordred seemed to be happy about was the fact that he caused many Roman's before Arthur so much trouble that they had him transferred to different posts.

"And who, exactly, are these to so called knights that we're supposed to have joining our ranks," Mordred growled out as he ran a hand through his dark black hair, reddish brown eyes glaring at the parchment that was in Arthur's hands.

"It didn't say, but they're from around the same areas that you'd been stationed at based on the assumption that they are further out from the Carnathy area," stated Arthur not wanting to make the hateful night anymore ticked off than he was by pointing out that the only reason why he was asking this question was because he wanted to hunt down the people that took his title of 'Roman's Worst Enemy' away from him.

Tristan spoke up from his corner, "Perhaps that's the reason why your previous commanders sent you away without punishing you, they already had somebody that caused them so much trouble they didn't want to put up with it anymore," Before Mordred could lunge at the scout Tristan stood up along with his cousin Bedevere, "Carnathy is a long ways off, we best be leaving soon if we're expected to get there before our new brothers," Bedevere said calmly, fingering a dagger as Mordred stood with malicious intent in his eyes.

"Yes. Knights, do what you must to prepare, we'll leave in thirty minutes," Arthur commanded as he stood up and left the room, 'the tension has grown so thick between Mordred and Tristan you could break a knife trying to cut through it,' Arthur speculated as he reached his room and began to prepare for the journey ahead. He paused as he picked up Excalibur, 'given no name or any other kind of identification. The only thing I'm told is that they have a record for bad behavior and that Rome wants them kept chained up through restrictions and I'm supposed to have them killed for major crimes. Just who, or what, is Rome sending me to have under my command?'

I don't like how this chapter came out but it's just the way it ended up being written as. I might go back later and revise it if I can find the time to do so.


	3. And so it Begins

_Few meet the expectations of their fate. Little is known about the path ahead and yet the traveler must carry on through the darkness that lies there. Demons and ghouls of the past, present and future line the road and sometimes the road itself is the demon. How does one continue if all they find is pain and death upon the road that they travel? What happens to them when an even more sinister path is placed in front of them, as a cross road that allows only for the traveler to go one way?_

Two shadowy figures watched as the small group of horsemen passed by, the sharp hills and thick tree line hiding their forms from view. The lighter cloaked one snorted slightly in amusement as they spotted figures hiding on the path that the horsemen were traveling on. "Do you think they've noticed the Woads yet," they asked, turning their head slightly to look at their silent companion. After a few moment of silence they continued, "Best go make sure they don't get themselves killed now shouldn't we. After all, it wouldn't do to have another accidental death on our record now would it?" Kicking their steed forward they charged towards the battlefield just when the group of riders was ambushed.

Sighing slightly the dark cloaked rider drew out their bow, notching a dark arrow to the string. A few seconds debate on their target and then they let fly.

The journey had been uneventful until now, only a few hours from Carnathy and Arthur and his knights found themselves being attacked by Woads. Judging by the odds and how he just got pulled off his horse, Tristan was none to happy with the way things were going. Killing those around him with the smooth grace he'd come to be known for he turned when feeling the presence of an enemy behind him.

The body fell. A black arrow with white fletching was protruding from the spinal join of the Woad that had managed to get within killing distance behind him. Killing another Woad that tried to sneak up on him as he studied the arrow briefly he looked up in the direction the arrow should have come from and saw a black charger heading towards battle, their rider's white cloak flying behind them like wings. Turning back to the battle at hand he noted how there were other black arrows lodged in some of the other dead Woads. This battle wasn't going to be as bad as originally thought.

Arthur glanced to his right slightly when a flash of white against the tree line caught his eye. He paused slightly at the sight of the warrior in white that seemed to bludgeon through enemies in a style similar to Bors' but more refined. The spray of blood and bits of gore made a gruesome picture on the plane of white that was the cloak of the rider while the graceful arcs and turns that formed from the blood spray off of their blades created brilliant patterns in the snow. Deciding to find out about the warrior later, Arthur turned back to the battle at hand only to find a dead Woad toppling to the ground right behind him, a black arrow blossoming from the man's skull. Slightly stunned, he paused for a while, completely oblivious to the battle around him until another arrow slid past his face and killed another Woad. Arthur immediately went back to fighting, deciding it best to finish this fight quickly and then worry about the stranger in white and the black arrows.

Bors and Lancelot had teamed up on the battlefield creating a pile of dead bodies around them. They were doing so well that they were both more than a little surprised when another pressed into their circle, helping them just as the enemies began to double up around them. In fact, Lancelot nearly took off the head of the new comer thinking that he was an enemy. He was shocked to see that it was someone wearing a very bloodied white cloak. He was even more shocked when the fighter managed to grab hold of his arm and use it as a type of leverage to swing themselves around him and cut down two Woads that had gotten behind him with the strange blades that they had strapped to their boots.

As the two Woads fell the battle had ended. The cloaked warrior released Lancelot's arm once they had both feet on solid ground again and then walked off in the direction of their horse, blatantly ignoring the questioning and distrustful looks they were receiving. As the warrior began to look over their horse, the knights began to gather their own steeds, never once taking their eyes off of the mysterious cloaked warrior.

Arthur approached the warrior warily as the knights stood on guard, ready to fight if need be. The warrior in white merely nodded in his general direction as they began pulling bits of gore off their cloak, flinging the bits of flesh away in fervent disgust. Before anything could be said another warrior showed up, their dark dappled gray steed that was blackened along its legs, muzzle, mane and tail seemed to glide like smoke across the snow. The rider them self wore a black cloak that caused them to stand out painfully against the expansive white backdrop around them. Upon dismounting from their mount they reached into their cloak. Some of the knights drew daggers as the rider in black walked towards Arthur. They relaxed slightly however when the stranger pulled out a scroll and a long piece of cloth; the scroll they handed to Arthur as they walked past him while they kept hold of the cloth and began to gather up the white fletched arrows that littered the battle field.

Arthur opened the scroll and scanned the contents before handing it to Lancelot and taking a closer look at the white rider. "You two are the knights that are to be joining my cavalry?" A loud snort was heard from the warrior in white before they doubled over laughing, earning them a few strange looks until the warrior in white seemed to regain themselves and stand up again.

"Thank you," the white warrior said, their voice slurred and gruff. Giving a mock bow that was greatly exaggerated by their cloak the warrior then continued, "It's not everyday that one so humble and lowly as me gets to hear a higher up make a complete and total idiot of himself by stating the fucking obvious." Giving lots of flamboyant motions as they said this and the jovial tone they seemed to have when speaking made the dark glare- that could be seen when the rider removed the hood of their cloak at the end of their tirade- stamped across their features sickening before it was hastily replaced by a gooey closed-eyed smile as Arthur took a step back in surprise. Medium length blonde hair that stuck out in odd angles here and there framed an angled face that had a few red blotches of blood on it from the previous battle.

The Warrior in black soon cut in front of the other warrior and remounted their dapple gray, green eyes could be seen from beneath the dark cloak scanning the battle field with cool eyes before they nodded in the knights direction and turned their horse in the direction of their new station. Giving another bow the white warrior smiled again and pointed in the direction of the rider in black, "That little introduction over with, mind if we get moving, I'm kind of freezing my arse off here. Been out in the snow waiting for you all to get here for about two days now, and I'm ready for a warm bed. Introductions can be made while moving in the direction of food, drink, warm company and decent housing can it not?"

Scouter: I'm still not too sure which knights I want to use just yet, I'll let you know when I get a better idea of who my OC's might pair up best with. Thank you for reviewing!

Atanvarne06: Thanks I wasn't sure how well the beginning had come off, I'm not very good at starting things. -


	4. A Tentative Step

Sorry that it took me so long to update, I got caught up in a ton of work and it's put me off of my creative track, so I've pretty much been stuck on how to write this chapter for about a month now, so sorry if this chapter sucks but I find that the only way to overcome writers block is to just write until something seems to work. But thank you to those of you who reviewed, Lady Marek, Atanvarne06, and Lady Lily Rose (I think I've figured out who the knights will be, Tristan and most likely Gawain but maybe Lancelot) Thank you for being patient with me.

_Does the blood of ones past decide the fate of ones future? Do the hands that are seeped in blood for so long have to continue the constant blood bath that consumes them? What memories does the past hold for us all, when the time comes and death seeks shelter in our homes what do we do?_

They had rode until the sun began to disappear over the horizon and the silence that now consumed the small band was stressed but not as distrustful as the first silence had been. While the knights and the warrior in white went to catch up to the dark warrior, the white knight, later known as Alaxadrien filled them in as best he could. Tristan watched the two new warriors closely. Alaxadrien seemed to be enjoying himself too much, the laid back appearance and the wide foxy grin made him wary, it was as if the blonde haired man had no care for danger. Though Tristan also took note of how the dark knight rode closer to Alaxadrien while unorthodox white knight stared at the clouds. Observing the dark knight Tristan thought back the interrogation that had filled the past hour or so.

….

"Just who exactly are you," Mordred had sneered out after a few minutes. They still hadn't caught up to the dark warrior and the blonde haired warrior simply slowed their black charger down and muttered something about crazy green eyed demons leaving them with all the dirty work.

The blonde's garbled conversation with himself ceased and he then fixed sneering brown eyes on Mordred in a smiling glare. "Well aren't you cheerful. The name is Alaxadrien and I won't accept anything else under penalty of having your tongue chopped off. Daemon has gone off to scout and will probably be back in an hour or so."

"You can't tell me that Daemon is their really name," Bors snorted riding up along side the smaller man.

Alaxadrien gave a short snicker. "Guilty. Quite guilty. Daemon isn't their real name, but that's what everyone calls them. Hell you could probably call 'em just about anything you like so long as they know you're talking to them. Course I can't guarantee that they won't cut you to ribbons if they don't like they name you call them."

Arthur looked at them oddly, "Then what is their name?"

Alaxadrien gave a crooked smile in his direction, "Weren't listening I see. Pathetic, after everything that I've heard of about the famous Knights under the command of the great Arturius Castus, about how much the commander cares for his knights. I swear had old man Lamorak not been talking so enthusiastically truthful I would have cut his tongue out just to get him to shut up. I'm highly disappointed"

Galahad spoke up before anyone else could cut in on the caustic remarks of Alaxadrien, "You met Lamorak, how is he, did he make it to the port at Fort Docksden?" Alaxadrien seemed taken aback by the enthusiasm in the young knights voice. Brown eyes fixed on the path ahead of them in silence.

"The caravan that he was traveling with when he left my last posting was attack by Picts about a days journey out. The Demon of the East was only able to salvage a few things from the carnage to put the restless spirits to rest when they had stumbled upon the scene when coming back from a mission. Our fort was attacked and destroyed about a week later, it's part of the reason why we're here," Alaxadrien gave a withering laugh, while the knights sat in pensive silence, mourning the death of an old comrade "survival seems to be the only thing we're good at that Rome doesn't like."

The silence continued for a while before Galahad spoke up, "You knew The Demon of the East. The warrior from Sarmatia that is said to be able to stop an entire army single handedly and can fight with the strength of the gods,"

Alaxadrien burst out laughing, the odd barking and fairly high pitched sound caused the horse to skirt away from the white warrior in agitation with the black charger merely flicked it's ears in annoyance, "Oh man, if they heard you say that you might actually be able to do the impossible. Make them laugh." Looking at the odd stares that he was receiving Alaxadrien gave a sort of cough to cover up their embarrassment, "Ok. It's not "knew The Demon," first of all. They're still alive, the charges against them for the death of a monk was dropped the day of the execution. Secondly, The Demon of the East is Daemon… it's part of the reason why everyone calls 'em that."

Kay spoke up next, "That'd make you the Bloody Angle of Rome"

"Aye that it would," Alaxadrien said, "not that I'm exactly the run of the mill Angelic figure now am I. Besides, it's not of Rome but of the Wall, the idiot translator was being your typical brown-nosed rat and decided to say Rome to make the bloody capital feel as if it actually had something to brag about. Daemon practically tickled the man red with a blade until he changed the name he had them down as to The Demon of the East instead of The Demon of Rome.

"Which brings us back to a previous question, which you failed to answer," Lancelot cut in, "What is the Demon's real name?"

Alaxadrien sighed and looked ahead with an odd smirk as Daemon could be seen coming back towards the group, "They told you their name already, if you didn't catch it the first time too bad, it's only theirs to give. Which is why you can call them pretty much anything you want, isn't that right Daemon," Alaxadrien had turned his attention to the dark warrior as the foggy dapple turned fluidly in step with the rest of the horses. Green eyes flickered in the direction of the blonde before they fixed ahead.

"The path is clear for a while," a soft husky monotone said after a few moments of tense silence, "It'd be best to cut through the forest edge while the path is clear." Green eyes then fixed themselves on Arthur in a cold stare making him nod warily. With that consent a soft click was heard and Daemon's horse took off cantering Alaxadrien's black charger following after as the other knights pressed their horses forward as well.

.…

Bedevere rode up along side him on his dapple gray and followed his gaze silently, "You don't trust them either, do you cousin," He asked after a while. Tristan glanced at Bedevere out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the dark warrior, who currently had their head bowed slightly and rocked gently with the strides of their horse. He hardly knew a thing about the mysterious man, and the dangerous silence that they portrayed hardly helped his judgment of them.

"He's dangerous, but I don't think he's a threat unless provoked to be such," he said after a while, taking note of the almost imperceptible twitch in the dark warrior's gloved hand as Mordred inched his horse slowly closer to the new knights, dark intent gleaming in the malicious knights eyes.

"I agree. The impression that Alaxadrien had given of them is that they are dangerous, but rather placid about it," Bedevere said snorting in soft amusement as he watched Mordred slowly close in on his intended target, "The idiot doesn't even know what he's getting into and yet Alaxadrien is completely oblivious to it all. The Demon certainly is protective of their friend though. At that distance they can easily pull him out of a daydream without bringing to much attention to themselves. Rather clever actually,"

The two scouts feel silent as the soft hiss of a blade leaving it's sheath rang through the air and Mordred released a rather girly yelp of surprise as the sleeve covering the arm he'd been reaching out with to de-cloak the dark warrior with was torn to ribbons and a delicately curved Asian styled sword danced lightly along his jugular vein. Green eyes could once again be seen, narrowed in a dead glare. Alaxadrien was once again laughing, "Making friends already Daemon, it's a bit early for that isn't it. Besides I thought you only tried to associate yourself with other warriors, not little girl girls that shriek at the sight long pointy objects" Daemon merely rolled their eyes in annoyance and sheathed their sword while Mordred seethed in anger and the other knights began to laugh. Tristan smirked in amusement when the Demon used their foot closest to Alaxadrien to almost dismount the still laughing blonde causing Alaxadrien to have to grab hold of his saddle as he half fell from it causing his horse to skirt to the side nearly running into Dagonet. The tall gentle giant merely reached out a giant paw that practically engulfed the smaller knights shoulder and shoved him back up in his saddle.

Then came the dramatics, placing a hand across his brow and leaning back in mock defeat Alaxadrien clutched his other hand to his heart, "I fear that I'm mortally wounded. Alas, alas the lights are growing dim," he then turned in his saddle and faced Mordred a look of pure pleading in his eyes as the hand that had lay across his forehead then reached out in a slight pawing motion, "Oh, oh dear maiden, dear maiden. A kiss before my eyes fail me,"

Bors guffawed loudly while Mordred turned bright red with anger and yelled back, "I'm not a girl, you daft buffoon," causing Gawain and Galahad to keel over with laughter, Kay joining in soon after while Dagonet moved his horse away from the younger knight with a look of amusement. Arthur and Lancelot merely chuckled to themselves and Daemon shook their head slightly as they pulled out from between the two now arguing knights. Tristan heard Bedevere laugh quietly and he himself was smirking.

Alaxadrien feigned shock and heartbreak, "My but how, you sound just like one… whatever your name is." Mordred made a lunge for the laughing knight sword drawn while Alaxadrien merely continued laughing drawing a sword themselves and blocking the attack. "My but you are fun to torment," Alaxadrien said getting over their fit of laughter while holding the two swords at a stalemate, "Who are you,"

Bors then slowed down beside the white knight still chuckling merrily, "Put your sword away Mordred you sour puss. Can't kill someone with a sense of humor like this uns," he said slapping Alaxadrien soundly across his back after the two knights had sheathed their swords nearly sending the smaller man tumbling off of his horse.

Bors merely laughed some more at the strange half glare he received from Alaxadrien, "And if the little kitten with out claws is Mordred, who or what exactly would you be,"

"I'd be Bors, gunna be mayor of me own town someday and Dagonet over there is gunna be my royal ass-kisser ain't that right Dag," Bors called out and some of the other knights began chuckling again at the joke while Dagonet just rolled his eyes.

Alaxadrien looked at them all strangely before speaking up, "I think I'm missing something. Wait, no… yeah, I'm missing something,"

Gawain pulled along side Alaxadrien laughing slightly, "Bors has about six kids at the moment and poor Vanora, his lover, is with child again," he laughed as Alaxadrien did a near perfect impression of a fish out of water. Tristan noted how the dark warrior shuddered slightly at the number, 'they don't like kids then,'

""I guess we were so preoccupied trying to figure out who you two were that we forgot to introduce ourselves," Gawain continued, at this Alaxadrien closed his mouth and nodded slightly, "I'm Gawain, you've met Bors, Mordred and Dagonet. You know Arthur to be our commander, the one next to him is Lancelot." At the mention of his name Lancelot turned slightly and smirked slightly before waving his hand and turning back forwards. "The two riding behind us are Tristan and Bedevere. And the whelp here is Galahad, and Kay is over there by Mordred"

"Hey,"

The knights began laughing again as Galahad began to silently fume while Daemon steered their horse towards the front of the group, "There's a clearing a few miles up a head, are we camping for the night or riding on?" They asked Arthur keeping their hood forward but he could feel the warrior's cold eyes looking at him.

"We'll camp for the knight, could you tell Tristan or Bedevere to see if the area is clear up ahead," Arthur stated causing the quiet warrior to look at him, "You should get the chance to get acquainted with the others,"

The Demon nodded slightly and reined their horse back till they were alongside the other two scouts conveying the message. As Tristan rode up towards the front and The Demon stayed back with Bedevere, Lancelot pulled up alongside Arthur, "Neither of them seem to like you very much my friend."

"No, it seems not," Arthur stated watching carefully as Tristan disappeared into the leafy foliage ahead of them.

Sighing Lancelot shook his head, "Give them time, they don't seem to like Romans in general, Arthur. We don't know enough about them yet to be sure, but I think that in time they may come to trust as we have,"

Glancing back towards the dark warrior at the back of their group Arthur could see their green eyes looking back at him emotionlessly head tilting to the side ever so slightly as something dangerous flashed across their eyes, causing him to turn to the front again, "I hope you're right, Lancelot."


	5. Observations

Dark shadows flickered around the firelight casting about wraith like silhouettes that danced amidst the trees. Impassive green eyes observed the company of knights that sat about the steady glow of light in the middle of the diminutive clearing. Apprehensive trust, that's what it was. Green eyes flickered around the camp, calculating and cautious.

Alaxadrien was tense, hands fluttering about them in wide seemingly uncaring gestures as they taunted and joked around with their new comrades; however the dark warrior knew that the blonde's hands were never far from the many different weapons concealed upon their person, count on the spacey git to be indecisive when they were cornered. The big stocky man, Bors was sitting to Alaxadrien's right, laughing raucously, he was at ease with their blonde haired friend however his abrasive and crude behavior had them wincing slightly underneath the hood of their cloak. He was too loud.

Bors' friend Dagonet however was too quiet for their preference. They knew enough about themselves to know that the quiet ones were the ones you had to watch out for; however, the giant of a man confused them, he was quiet yet he held no animosity in his actions. In fact, the giant would steady Alaxadrien and keep the smaller knight from being sent tumbling into the fire whenever Bors slapped them heartily on the back. Dagonet confused them, they didn't like confusion, knowing about everything around you was the way to survive; confusion meant a possibility of death and death was unacceptable.

A growl from one of the knights across from Alaxadrien called their attention, hand sliding to a hidden dagger on their arm guard. Green eyes narrowed slightly, the one they called Mordred. The disheveled man had a dark heart, with features to match it. They had been tempted to cut the sneering knights arm off when he had disturbed them from their rest. He hated them; that much was certain when they had first laid eyes on the malicious knight. Why they couldn't guess, but it probably had to do with the abhorrent man's pride as Alaxadrien was currently mocking him again.

The one they called Kay was next to Mordred. Although the rusty blonde knight was laughing with the others he seemed wary of the man sitting next to him. The wary glances sent to his right didn't go unnoticed by them and they silently pulled the dagger from its sheath the darkened blade remained concealed beneath the long sleeve of their undercoat. Those glances only furthered their suspicions; Mordred was not to be trusted and Kay seemed to know why. They'd have to watch them both carefully.

The roman and Lancelot were next in the circle. Arthurius Castus certainly was strange for a Roman, but then again he was half Briton as well. The man appeared to be generally concerned about the other around him, however Rome was never to be trusted, Rome was cruel and deceitful. The man's kindness had to be a ruse, an act as black as his cloak is bloodstained. The dark knight Lancelot trusted him though, seemed to be relaxed friends with the Roman. An idiot in their minds, no one taken from their homes should trust a man a part of the society that forced them into servitude. It was unacceptable and disgusting.

The soft huff of their horse brought The Demon out of their watchful state. Muttering quietly the dark warrior continued brushing down the foggy colored animal, the glow from the fire glistening off of the silvery coat of the creature. Memories dark and unbidden danced across their minds eye as they lay their head across the back of the misty horse, eyes watching the firelight dance across the shadows, a few dark tresses escaping the hood of their cloak. A pale hand caressed the animal's neck gently as The Demon fell into a tense trance.

Snap.

In an instant the trance was lost and the hidden dagger was out in the open, green eyes searching the tree line. The other knights were wary as well, hands straying towards their weapons. Alaxadrien was now up on his feet with blades drawn, body relaxed and poised to throw the two moon-shaped daggers. Snorting softly in annoyance the dark warrior sheathed their blade when they made out the forms of Tristan and Bedevere coming back from hunting dinner. As the two scouts entered the campsite Alaxadrien gave a sort of half laugh, trying to pass off their sudden action as simple instinct and sheathed the two curved blades he'd drawn.

Turning back towards their horse the dark warrior finished up brushing the animal down and then reached into their pack, bringing out a small treat. Feeding it to their companion, looking up slightly when they felt eyes on them. The scout Tristan was watching them again, as he'd been doing since they had joined up with the group. They smirked slightly before continuing with what they were doing, the scout was smart. He knew not to trust so easily, his cousin Bedevere was the same but a little more carefree in the way he handled the situation. Yes, the two scouts were ones to look out for, for they would be the first to spot anything wrong or different. They'd have to tell Alaxadrien to be more careful when they were alone.

_Many are met along the path of destiny. Some are good some are bad and others are yet to be decided. Trust is not easily made, for how is one to tell if their company walks in the light or in the shadow? However, do not doubt so quickly that a dark heart is blackened to all those around it, for even in the darkness a light can shine through._

"How long is they going to bloody tend to that horse, I swear they start brushing the thing down again if a flake of snow lands on it,"

Alaxadrien looked away from the fire where Dagonet was cooking their meal to glance at Bors questioningly only to be pointed in the direction of their companion. "Oh, Artanian. That horse is probably the most pampered creature on this entire island. Daemon's almost done brushing them down, then Artanian gets a bag of feed to munch on while his hooves are cleaned out, then his joints get massaged for a while, one last final brush down and then Daemon's finished and will most likely cut up a small apple or something as a treat for being good, because sometimes that bloody horse is like hell on earth." After finishing his explanation Alaxadrien went back to watching Dagonet cook before noting the odd silence. Sighing he continued, "Let me tell you something now, don't go near Artanian unless you have a death wish, because if the horse doesn't do something to you, The Demon will."

As Dagonet began serving out the stew he'd made to the knights Lancelot spoke up, "Why go to such extremes for a horse." Alaxadrien was just about to grab their bowl from Dagonet when a dagger skewered a rather large slab of rabbit in their bowl.

"Because it is they who carry you in and out of battle," Daemon said quietly as they retracted their hand, taking their dagger out of Alaxadrien's bowl, "And it is they who you can rely upon to get you out of ugly situations when the time calls for it. If they are so loyal to us why not give them something in return?" They looked over the slab of meat before removing it from their dagger and turning back to return to their horse, ripping into the bit of meat as they left.

"Hey," Alaxadrien shouted, "Why don't you get your own bowl,"


	6. Observations Cont

To my anonymous reviewer (if you are still interested in reading this story): Reading back through my story I am well aware of my mistakes, after all we're only human. However, when you're only free time to write is at about two maybe three o'clock in the morning, you're not as aware of any mistakes you might have made until after the fact. I have been making edits to my work, I just haven't gotten around to posting the corrections yet for the simple fact that I want to get the beginning of this story (which isn't fully planned out like the rest of it is) out so that I can mold the original piece into something that fits better with what I have planned, and for me to do that I need to see the thing as a whole. As for the distractions this may cause I am sorry and I will try to be more aware as I continue with the story. As for your question about the characters that one was failure to mention that the chapter before this one was split into two parts so that I could get it out.

So here is the second part to Observation, please enjoy and sorry for the wait got bogged down with homework.

Tristan observed the campsite through half closed eyes. He could not sleep. A dark unease had settled into the back of his mind after having observed the two new warriors just before everyone settled down to rest. He was still uneasy while he watched them both as they slept all the while hoping that he could see something there that would either prove or vanquish the nagging at the back of his mind that kept him awake.

The Daemon had sent a dark glare back in the direction of Alaxadrien after the quick remark causing the later to put both hands up defensively. The uneasy chuckle coming from Alaxadrien caused Tristan to really look at the knight. Shaggy blonde hair that stuck out at random odds and ends presumably having been cut off during battle, considering how Alaxadrien liked to fight, framed a fairly angular face. Dried blood and mud caused the dirty yellow strands to cling together in stringy strands serving to further enhance the hodge podge of random lengths. Dark, sunburnt tan skin covered in dust and flecks of blood stood out against the white undershirt and baggy leggings that Alaxadrien wore.

Tristan took in the white knights armor. Efficient, but elaborate and not really made in the Sarmatian or Roman fashion, the armor was more Asian influenced. The dark deer hide leather tunic that fit on top of the white undershirt seemed to be doubled over, with chain mail stitched between the two layers. The tunic and the white undershirt were firmly tied to Alaxadrien's body by black leather plating that buckled over the white knight's shoulders and was tightened with a black cloth belt across the rib cage. Leather leg guards were sewn into the white leggings, thicker bands of leather encompassing Alaxadrien's knees, visible scar lines and patched up lacerations adorned the brown leather showing just how useful it was.

"Have you noticed his boots, the back of the heel and the toe line are coated in wax and rosin, the rest of the leather was left as is for more flexibility. Fitting if you think about the way Alaxadrien fights but not very comfortable for riding horses?" Tristan glanced at his cousin, who used a half smirk to hide the movement of his mouth as he quietly relayed his observation. Bedevere chuckled slightly as once again Dagonet had to prevent the smaller knight from going tumbling head first into the fire as Bors smacked him lightheartedly across the back. "Not too strong though and obviously not as good as a horseman as his companion is either."

"His voice is too high pitched."

Bedevere spared a glance towards Tristan, "Not much higher than Galahad's"

"It doesn't seem like it with how gruff sounding Alaxadrien is, but without that edge it would be much higher," Tristan stated coolly, noting how Alaxadrien glanced warily at Bors before quickly changing his expression to exaggerated amusement.

"We're being watched."

Looking up from his observation of the white knight Tristan glanced at the Daemon. Green eyes stared right back at him, firelight seeming unable to penetrate the darkness that lay within the emerald orbs but never failing to reveal their brightness. Pale features were illuminated slightly revealing a soft curve of a nose and cheeks; ebony hair fell in thick strands about the Daemon's pale features. Gold flashed briefly as the Daemon lowered their gaze back to the gray stallion, revealing clips that held the dark rider's hair out of the way. Black and dark brown leather were occasionally visible as the Daemon continued to brush down the foggy gray stallion. Thinking back on the times he'd heard the dark warrior speak Tristan had to say the knight's voice bugged him the most. Soft and husky, and always nearly whispered in a low monotone, the dark knights voice made them even more of a shadow amidst the shadows.

The faint rustle of fabric brought Tristan out of his reminiscing. The dark warrior had stood up from the seemingly uncomfortable perch, stretching to relieve some of the tension in lithe limbs. Black and dark brown leather clothing was revealed as the black cape parted. Long sleeves lazily bunched at the dark warriors shoulders allowing for black leather arm guards to become visible. Green eyes glanced at him with mild amusement before the Daemon's soft voice seemed to drift across the campsite towards him.

"You should be resting, the sun rises soon," pale hands rearranged the black cloak about the thin build of the Daemon. "The giant, Dagonet, should be back from his watch by now, based on the length of the shifts you knights take."

Standing up Tristan stretched as well, knowing sleep wouldn't come to him now. "The same could be said for you," Dagonet's quiet voice said as he entered the campsite. "You've been awake since before my shift started,"

The Daemon shrugged slightly before turning to Artanian and running a hand down along the smooth expanse of the animal's neck. Soft murmurings could barely be heard on the breeze but the words and language were indiscernible. Alaxadrien's black charger managed to untie the knot in his reigns and walk slowly over to the Daemon and their horse, seeming to purposefully clip one of his back hooves on his rider's side as he stepped over the still sleeping Alaxadrien. A grumbled curse escaped the white knight's lips as they rolled over to glare sleepily at all those who were awake. Daemon silently snorted before handing the black stallion a small treat out of the saddlebag that was lying near Artanian's front hooves. Another treat was fed to the graceful animal as the Daemon then began to saddle up the foggy gray horse.

"You all wake up to bloody early," was the only comment Alaxadrien made as he slowly got up and Dagonet began to carefully wake the others.


End file.
